Classic Poem

Prepare your wreaths, Aonian maids divine,
To strew the tranquil bed where I shall sleep;
In tears, the myrtle and the laurel steep,
And let Erato's hand the trophies twine.
No Parian marble there, with laboured line
Shall bid the wandering lover stay to weep;
There holy silence shall her vigils keep
Save when the nightingale such woes as mine
Shall sadly sing; as twilight's curtains spread,
There shall the branching lotus widely wave,
Sprinkling soft showers upon the lily's head,
Sweet drooping emblem for a lover's grave!
And there shall Phaon pearls of pity shed
To gem the vanquished heart he scorned to save!